


Harry Potter and the Tri-Fold Prophecy

by Foopy



Series: Harry Potter and the Tri-Fold Prophecy [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blood Magic, Dark Elves, Dark Magic, Dreams and Nightmares, Elves, Fae & Fairies, Fae Magic, Glacial Updates, Immortality, M/M, No Light or Dark, Powerful Harry, Prophecy, Soul Magic, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foopy/pseuds/Foopy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has been having dreams since the end of his Fifth Year at Hogwarts, some of them terrifying, and others intriguing and almost memory-like. Even more troubling, his magic seems to have turned traitor, doing what it will and causing general havoc. What awaits Harry in this tale?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER WARNING: This WILL contain spoilers from ALL the Harry Potter books. It is set Post Order of the Phoenix, however there will be information from The Half Blood Prince, and Deathly Hallows as well. From chapter one there will be large spoilers.
> 
> I am slightly changing the story, so that it is set in more current times (Harry was born in 1994 instead of 1980) The main story line will not have changed, but as there will, of course, be interaction with muggles the technology will be more familiar in current times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s begin:

_ Somewhere in a dense forest _

_ Flashes of light filled the sky and cries of agony and shouts of rage rang through the otherwise silent air. The great walls of the Citadel were ablaze with glowing blue and white symbols, and they were pulsing rapidly. As the battle around the tower raged on, however, the pulsing grew less and less frequent, and the light of the symbols was slowly fading. In the midst of such a battle, there was a small meeting, in a closed and dimly lit room in the catacombs at the very centre of the citadel. _

_ In the small room, there were a group of tall, regal people gathered in an assortment of chairs around a large obsidian table. The expressions on their faces ranged from calm and collected, to outright panic, all the way to anger in the two smallest and youngest looking of those assembled. _

_ “Quickly, they are almost here!”, cried the tall blond man at the head of the table. “We haven’t the time to argue, this IS what we are doing, and as King, I order you to do as we have agreed at this conference, in a majority vote I might add!” _

_ “But this isn’t the right way to go, we should all pool our resources and resist them here, we are far more powerful than they are, they only beat us in number and viciousness!”, insisted the much smaller form, at the right of the king. “We can’t let you all sacrifice yourselves on the hope that we will find what we seek.” The two twins were switching back and forth so much in their speech, that it was hard to tell which one had said any one part of their message. _

_ “We have all agreed to this path, young one”, said a woman off to the left of the table, as she bowed deeply to the king. “My apologies, your majesty, I have just come from the watch-tower, and the wards are about to fall. After they fall, there will be nothing stopping the Dark Ones to march into the Citadel, so whatever plan we choose must be put into action quickly!” _

_ “Yes, we have wasted enough time arguing already, my sons, this is the only path we can take, and we only can ask the blessing of the Ancestors on our chosen course. I am sorry to place such a burden on you at such a young age, but I will be sending you to a man who knows almost everything there is to know of our nation.” The King looked truly old for the first time, and his twin sons calmly accepted their father’s words. _

___________________________________________________________________________________

Number Four, Privet Drive

Harry awoke with a start again for the fifth, or was it sixth, time that night. He sat up and looked around, convinced he would see the flashes of light, or hear the crying in the streets of the city, as it felt as though he had simply stepped into his room for a momentary respite from the battle. However, he recovered more quickly this time: he always felt this way after one of “those dreams”. He’d been having them for a few nights now, and they were providing shelter from the nightmares he was having with the return of Voldemort and the death of Sirius. The dreams had been changing every night, but the men and women, who appeared to wield a very different form of magic than any he had seen, in the dreams remained the same. The dreams all seemed to be leading up to this point; the dreams were all focused on the debates in the small room with the obsidian table, and Harry had become accustomed to the seating and opinions of all the members in the room. All except the king and his two sons were equal in rank, and were positioned around the table according to their duties in the city. The night before, all except the two twins had agreed on the course of action, however this plan was a mystery to him, as it never was a part of any of the dreams.

Harry quickly decided to go back to sleep, to see if the dream would continue. This time, however, it was not in the familiar city with the Citadel in the centre. This time, he ended up in a multilevel room, with an archway at the bottom tier of the room. The archway was slowly blowing, as if in a calm breeze, but the air was perfectly still. Then, Sirius’s face appeared in the archway. “HELP MEEEEeeeee....” his voice was strained, but the idea was crystal clear.

“Sirius...” Harry whispered, then “SIRIUS!!!” He began shouting; he was running towards the archway, reaching, wishing to pull Sirius from the curtain, but his movements were slow and exaggerated, as if he was attempting to swim through the air. He neared the blowing covering, and as he did, Sirius came into clearer focus: he was white and pale, and he had a ghostlike characteristic about him. Harry slowed, and with a wavering voice called, “Sirius...?”

Sirius began sinking back into the archway, and as he did, he called “You have the answer among you, find me...” Then he was gone, leaving only his water-filtered voice echoing through the still room.

 

Harry woke with a start once again, but this time he had no desire whatsoever to return to sleep. This dream was another he had had repeatedly in the week since he returned to the Dursley’s, and it always filled him with the urge to be ill. Suppressing this urge, he decided that he would do something useful with his time and pack, as he was leaving to go to the Burrow for the rest of the summer later that day. His summer so far would have been almost pleasant, if it hadn’t been for the fact that Sirius was dead and Harry believed it was entirely his fault for being too stupid to learn Occlumency. The Dursleys had mostly ignored him this year, which was perfectly fine with him; he wasn’t much in the mood for company of any kind, especially not with his relatives. He had spent much of his time in his room, simply staring at the ceiling, or walking aimlessly through the community, trying to drown out his guilt and shame.

He had been writing frequently with Remus, Ron, and Hermione and he was feeling that if he could just move on he would be much better off this year than he had been in a while. He had discussed his dreams with Lupin, and he agreed they were unusual, but could offer no insight into the matter. At the top of the list of strange occurrences this summer, however, were not his dreams, but instead the many exploding objects in his vicinity. Whenever he would get upset or particularly emotional random objects began to explode, and so, Harry had taken to hiding away in his room, lest he attract the wrath of his ‘family’. He had tried to use Lumos once, as it was easier than turning on the lights and was the one bit of magic he was permitted to perform, but he had nearly blinded himself with its intensity, and a beam of light had nearly melted through his school trunk. Lupin again was upset by this development, but other than assuring Harry that he would be in contact with some of his sources and advising Harry to not use any magic whatsoever, he was again no help. Harry felt like his entire world was crashing around him, and his two previous comforts, magic and Sirius, were now beyond his reach.

As he wandered around and picked items up and set them down again, he found the mirror given to him by Sirius. The mirror that could have been used to prevent all of this, the mirror that he could have contacted Sirius with at any time... Any time he was alive, Harry thought bitterly. If only I hadn’t been so stupid... if only I had waited and taken the time to think things through... such thoughts ran wild through his mind, and he sat down heavily on his bed, cradling his head in his hands. Why do these things always happen to me? Why am I the one that is always targeted by misfortune? But he already knew the answer to these questions. He was targeted because of a prophecy. A prophecy that drove Voldemort to seek out Harry and try to destroy him when he was a child... a prophecy that dictated that he must either murder, or be murdered in turn. THAT is why his parents are dead, THAT is why Cedric is dead, and THAT is why Sirius is dead. Killed protecting him, or simply for being there. He seemed to be good at that, getting people killed. Despite this, the wizarding world still considered him a hero. Some hero he was, he didn’t even do anything.

By this time, tears were falling freely, and despair was slowly creeping in. Depression was settling in, and it didn’t seem like it wanted to go anywhere any time soon. He was even debating simply marching up to the Death Eaters and demanding to be brought before Voldemort, so he could finally end it all. As he was falling deeper and deeper into darkness, a small voice in the back of his head spoke up. “Don’t give in, we will beat this, you’ll see, things get better with time.” Great, now I’m depressed AND hearing voices in my head... The voice had seemed so familiar though... if only he could think: where had he heard that voice before?

______________________________________________________________________________

“Severus, what do you have to tell me,” asked a silky smooth voice with a hint of a snake’s hiss.

“My Lord, I have finally succeeded in obtaining the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts this year.“ He said this quietly, yet you could not mistake the joy in his voice. “Dumbledore seems to think he can finally trust me enough to instruct the young ones to defend themselves from you,” he added the last with a small chuckle.

“Yes, this is news of the best sort indeed. Harry Potter and those who oppose me would do well to be taught by you. Perhaps, if you can continue to go undetected by that old fool you can even sway some of the students to our way of thinking...” He left his thought unfinished, though Professor Snape knew what that meant. Convincing had nothing to do with it; the Imperius Curse was the favoured method of “convincing” among the Death Eaters.

“As you wish, my Lord.” Snape bowed low while turning to leave.

“Oh, Severus, do remember, if any harm befalls any of the Mudbloods in your classroom, it would be a most tragic accident, I’m sure.” Voldemort continued to talk in his calm quiet voice, the words rolling off as if they were blending into the air.

“Of course, my Lord.” And with that, Severus Snape turned and walked out of the room, his robes billowing around him in his stride.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s continue:

Draco Malfoy was torn. His mother was no longer the cold and distant person she had been the past few years, but instead she was warm and compassionate, like she had been when he was a child before the return of the Dark Lord. He was thrilled to have his mother back, but he was distressed because he felt he should be miserable due to his father's stay in Azkaban. The child in Draco wanted his father back, however he also knew that he was not the same man that Draco knew as a child: Lucius Malfoy had become seemingly obsessed with the Dark Lord Voldemort, and that obsession was what had landed him in prison. The Slytherin in Draco knew that an obsession to such a degree that you would fail to see reason was completely illogical, and he was starting to believe his father was not the person he appeared to the world; at the same time, however, he also knew that opposing the Dark Lord was not the wisest thing to do: Indeed, there were rumours within the Family that Regulus Black’s disappearance those many years ago was at His hand.

As these thought swirled through his head Pinky, his mother's house elf, popped in.

“Will Master Draco be joining Mistress for supper?”

Draco gave one look at the house elf cowering before him, debating whether or not he should scold the elf for entering his room without permission. Figuring it wasn’t worth the effort, he decided not to scold the pitiful creature before him, merely stating, “Yes, Pinky, I will be down shortly.”

“Yes Master, Pinky will be informing Mistress.”

Standing up from his desk, he looked at the old grandfather clock against one of his walls. He saw that it was well past the normal time for supper, and wondered why he had not been requested earlier. Leaving his room, he began his walk down to the main dining room of Malfoy Manor, three floors down from his room.

As he was walking down the grand staircase in the entryway of the manor, he heard voices coming from the dining room off to his left. Concerned that he was not made aware of guests, and by the raised nature of these voices, he hurried to the door to see who was disturbing his mother. He was shocked to find his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange, standing on one side of the table, shouting animatedly with his mother, on the other side of the table.

“Bella, he is just a boy, he is too young to be joining your ranks. Please, don't take him,” she pleaded.

Bellatrix sneered, responding with “The Dark Lord is highly displeased by Lucius' failure. He wishes to meet with your son to see if he is worthy to reclaim the Malfoy honour, and if he will be cunning enough to develop a plan that will finally be able to take down Harry Potter, and that old fool Dumbledore.”

“You mean he wants to make an example out of my boy, he wants the rest of the Death Eaters to see what happens to families that fail him,” she replied, on the verge of tears. “Please Bella, don't take my son from me.”

“Narcissa!” Bellatrix responded sharply. “How dare you question the Dark Lord! You dishonour the name of Black with your begging! We do not beg! We take what we want, and we cast aside those that stand in our way! I will not be returning to the Dark Lord alone, your son will be returning with me, and there is no more room for discussion.” She raked a critical glare over the despairing woman. “Unless you would prefer me to call the Dark Lord here?”

“No.” Narcissa choked out. “Please, watch over him for me Bella, he is my only son.”

“Cissy, there is nothing I can do. You are quite correct, the Dark Lord is highly displeased.” Bellatrix did not appear to be one bit remorseful in her comments, her eyes alight with a manic glow that sent shudders down Draco’s spine. Was this how he expects all his followers? Loyal to Him before even Family? It went against everything Draco had been taught. Family, Tradition, Purity, these were the things he was told to value, and yet so many of the Old Families didn’t even follow these rules. 

Quietly walking back up the grand staircase, Draco called to his mother. "Do we have guests joining us for supper this evening, Mother?”

“Yes Draco, your Aunt Bella stopped by to talk. She would like to speak to you after supper as well.” His mother replied, her cool, collected mask back in place. The hitch in her voice from the conversation with Bellatrix was replaced with her calm, aristocratic voice.

Draco entered the Dining room, a room that was currently set with an ebony table inlaid with platinum runes, and quickly made his way over to the seat beside his mother. Immediately Pinky and several trays of food appeared in the room. Pinky floated the trays over to the centre of the room, then quickly left, not making eye contact with anyone.

Draco and his mother shared a look, then began taking food off the trays to place on their plates. The three remained silent throughout the entire meal. Narcissa stood up, gave a pleading look to Bellatrix, then left the room.

“You wished to speak with me, Aunt Bellatrix?” Draco asked innocently.

“Yes, your Father's recent failure has caused the Dark Lord to begin looking for followers from unexpected sources, so that his enemies will be less likely to guess his actions. He wishes to meet with you, to discuss the possibility of having you fill your father's position.” replied Bellatrix.

“Very well, when would you like me to go?” asked Draco, acting as though excited by the news.

Smiling, Bellatrix took out a small hairbrush, and said “Immediately.” She grabbed ahold of Draco's arm, then activated the port key before he could even blink.

___________________________________________________________________

Having finished packing his trunk of all his belongings, Harry was restlessly awaiting the arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to take him to The Burrow for the rest of the summer.

“BOY!!!” Thundered Vernon Dursley from the living room below. “Get down here!”

Harry got up and slowly made his way down the stairs. Reaching the bottom he was not expecting the sight of his 'Aunt' Marge sitting in the room with Vernon and Petunia. Dudley was nowhere in sight, but that was hardly surprising. He seemed to spend every moment possible away from the house, and Harry could hardly blame him.

“Boy, we have decided that you will not be returning to your school for freaks, but instead you will accompany Marge to Military School.” Vernon said, as soon as Harry entered the room. “We feel that they will finally be able to whip out your 'abnormalities'.”

Disgusted by their presumptions, Harry replied, “I will be doing no such thing. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley will be by later to pick me up, and I will be going with them to spend the rest of the summer.”

“You watch your tone, boy!” Roared Vernon. “We have clothed and fed you for almost 16 years, and you WILL DO AS WE SAY!” As he yelled, he rapidly made his way over to Harry, grabbing him by the shoulder and dragging him farther into the living room. “We know you can't do anything to stop us, we know they'll kick you out anyways if you do!”

Frowning, Harry realised they were right, but he also realised he would rather be kicked out of school than spend anymore time with the Dursleys. Voice full of barely controlled anger, he replied, “That may be, but the Weasleys wouldn't kick me out either way, and so I choose to go live with them. If I have to use my 'freakish abilities' to get out of here, then I no longer care.” He shrugged out of the tight grip, and noticing the lights had started flickering, quickly fled to the relative safety of his room.

Harry quickly made his way up the stairs, sparing a second to glance at the clock: half an hour and the Weasleys would be there to pick him up. As he was just checking the lock on his trunk, he heard the unmistakable sound of Vernon Dursley's tremendous bulk coming up the stairs towards him.

Uncle Vernon stomped up the stairs, and the entire house trembled under his immense girth. He exploded into Harry's room, purple with rage.

 

“BOY!” He raged. “We have fed you and clothed you out of the goodness of our hearts. How dare you talk to us like that in our house! You will be going with Marge, and that's final! I don't want to hear any more about your abnormality or your freak school!”

 

The temperature in the room was dropping quickly, and there was an odd blue glow seemingly emanating from the walls. Harry's voice was icy as he responded, “Is that so?” Harry never turned from the wall as he spoke.

 

“Yes it is bloody well so, and you will look at me when I am speaking to you!” Uncle Vernon reached out to spin Harry around, but he never made it. Harry spun around, glaring at his uncle. His words still held the same quiet, icy tone as before, however there was now fire in his words too, a rage that was finally leaking through after the many years of being treated worse than most house elves.

 

“I am through listening to you, Vernon Dursley! You have never done anything for anyone out of the “kindness” of a heart you don't even have! You took me in because you had no choice in the matter!” Though his words were quiet, they rang through the air as if shouted. The background noise of birds in the trees, cars on the streets, and wind through the bushes had faded away to complete silence. “No longer will I listen to you. No longer will I be abused by your family. No more will I be your servant. No longer will I protect your family from dark forces out of some need to protect those around me. You no longer have to worry about hiding my 'abnormality'. I have decided that I would be far better living on my own than with you.” His words held a finality that dared Uncle Vernon to challenge him.

 

Uncle Vernon, oblivious to the baiting, was enraged by the news. “And just where do you think you'd go? I could have you back here in a minute by placing a single call to the authorities. We will have you off with Marge, even if we have to have you arrested to do it!” Uncle Vernon was looking smug now, sure that he had won the argument. “And don't think we would just let you leave either, we know you can't use any of your  freak powers when you aren't at that school! We can stop one boy from leaving this house easily!”

 

“If I have to use magic to escape this prison, I will. Don't force me into that decision, as I assure you the results would not be pleasant for you.” Harry's voice held none of the icy calmness now; It rang with fiery power, and with each word, the blue glow in the room grew more intense.

 

Still oblivious to the power surrounding him, Vernon Dursley reached out to grab Harry. “BOY! YOU WILL DO AS WE SAY!”

 

“I will not. I will no longer bow to the will of an abusive muggle!” With the last word his eyes erupted into blue fire, sparkling and flashing.

___________________________________________________________________

 

Arthur Weasley was running very early, as his wife Molly had urged him out the door saying he should surprise Harry and get to know the Dursleys, saying that if they just knew some adult wizards, they would be far less intolerant. Goodness knew teenagers could get on the nerves of the most saintly! Ron, Fred and George had come along, because they figured the sooner they led Harry out of the Dursleys the better off everyone would be.

 

George was the first to hear the shouting going on in the house.

 

“Merlin's Pants, what could they be on about?”

 

“George!” admonished Mr. Weasley, “Don't let your mother hear you saying that,” he added with a slight grin.

 

“Sorry Dad, but you gotta admit that sounds pretty bad,” replied Fred. Just as he finished his sentence, a bright blue beam cut the air from the top left window in the house.

 

“That's Harry's room!” exclaimed Ron.

 

An explosion shook the air, as all the glass in the block shattered spectacularly. The ground around the house was trembling, and the house itself looked like it may fall apart at any second. Ron took off for the house at full speed, and yanked the door open with the twins and their father in quick pursuit. They stumbled up the stairs, clinging to the railings, just in time to see Vernon Dursley get thrown through the wall next to Harry's room, colliding with the hallway wall, sending cracks splintering through the plaster, finally to collapse in an enormous pile on the floor. They ran up to the room to see Harry floating in the middle of the room, a blue halo of energy spinning around him. His eyes were still ablaze with power, but his eyes lightened in recognition when they landed on the Weasleys.

 

“H-h-harry?” stammered Ron. “W-wh-what's going on?”

 

At that, Harry collapsed, the power in the room vanishing, his eyes returning to their normal green before closing. Fred rushed forward just in time to catch him before his head hit the floor.

 

“What was that?” Fred asked in awe. “Was Harry possibly creating that much raw power?”

 

“I don't know.” Arthur was troubled. “We should take Harry back to the Burrow, and contact the Headmaster from there. It feels like the wards protecting this location have fallen, so we should apparate from here.”

 

“Is Harry going to be alright?” asked Ron.

  
“I don't know, I have never seen that much raw power at one time, and if Harry was indeed summoning it... it is best not to dwell on it. Harry is strong, if anyone can pull through this he can.” Arthur still sounded uncertain, however he simply said, “Side along apparition on three: Fred, George, you take Ron. I'll take Harry. One... Two... Three!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that’s a good place to stop for this chapter, the next one will be out soon!  
> foopy


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s continue:

Sitting down for afternoon tea with Minerva McGonagall, Albus Dumbledore did not expect to see Arthur Weasley's head appear in his fireplace.

“Albus, Minerva, are the two of you alone?” asked Mr. Weasley.

“Yes, of course.” Professor Dumbledore was disturbed by the distress in Arthur's voice. “Are Molly and the children alright?”

“What? Oh, yes of course. Harry, on the other hand...” Arthur cut his sentence off with a worried look behind him.

“What has happened with Harry that has you so worried?” Minerva asked, letting a bit of emotion slip into her voice. She was protective of all her students, but Harry held a special place reserved for those she considered family.

“I-I.... I'm not entirely sure! We, that is Ron, Fred, George and I, went by Harry's house with those muggle relatives of his to collect him to return to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. We were running early at the urging of Molly, she wanted us to get to know Harry's relatives.” Arthur’s words tumbled out in a long string without pause for breath. “When we arrived there was shouting coming from inside the house. Just as we were about to start making our way to the door a beam of blue light shot out of Harry's room just as all glass on the block shattered, including the glass that was inside cupboards and those auto-move-wheels. The ground was trembling, and the house looked like it was about to tear itself to shreds. We hurried inside, and just as we were coming up the stairs that huge muggle uncle of Harry's came through the wall, as if thrown! We hurried into Harry's room to see him floating in the middle with a ring of blue energy swirling around him. His eyes seemed to be made out of blue fire, Albus! When he saw us he simply collapsed, and we have been unable to revive him since.”

“Calm down, Arthur. If we are to help Harry I suggest you stand aside so that we can come through and check on his welfare.

“Very well, Albus. There are two more things I feel you should know before you arrive: The wards around Harry's house have fallen, and just as we were leaving I heard others apparating in.”

“Thank you for this information. I will think on the matter of the Wards failing. As for the apparating, let us hope it was the Ministry come to the house due to the detection of magic, and not the Death Eaters.” replied Dumbledore as he was walking towards the fireplace. “Now if you will move aside I will be coming through.”

______________________________________________________________________

Where am I? Am I dead, killed by my uncle? I thought there was supposed to be a light when you died, a light that would guide you to the other side...

Harry had awoken in complete darkness, but instead of panic like most people he felt a strange calm descend upon him.

At least I can't drag anyone else into death with me now

All of a sudden he heard something off in the distance. As he listened he realized it was someone singing, but not in a language he had ever heard before. The music was more beautiful than anything he had ever heard, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it carried great power.

But how can that be , he thought to himself.  Music is just music, isn't it? Remembering where he was, he suddenly realized it was possible things were different here.  I'm dead, after all. Maybe music and magic are one in the same here...

“Harry, love, you aren't dead. You have barely even started to live.”  That voice... I know it... where have I heard it before? It's the same one that told me not to give up hope... If I could only remember...

“Who are you?” Harry called into the darkness.

“In time you will know, love. Just know for now that I am one who would help,” replied the voice. “You have exhausted yourself mentally, physically and emotionally, and so you are now unconscious while your body's magic heals itself. You should, in fact, awaken shortly.”

“Why do you call me 'love'? Do we know each other?” asked Harry as he began looking for the source of the voice.

“All your questions will be answered in time. For now, I'd ask that you rest. Dumbledore will know what to do to help you.” The voice called as if from a great distance.

_______________________________________________________________________

 

“Hmm, most puzzling... Yes most puzzling indeed.”

“What is? Is he alright? Should we go to St. Mungo's?” Molly was beside herself with worry. Harry, her youngest son's best friend and her unofficially adopted seventh son, was unconscious on the couch in her living room.

“No, Molly, he will be quite alright on his own. What is puzzling is that he is showing signs of magical healing. Did any of you perform any spells on him?” Dumbledore asked the room containing Molly, Arthur, Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione and Minerva.

“No, Albus, none of us have done any magic near him. I figured if he was suffering from magic overload like I thought he might be, then magic would be the worst thing for him,” replied Arthur trying not to let the fear he felt enter his voice. “We only apparated him here because we didn’t know how else to get here.”

“I would have said the same thing... if none of us performed this magic then who did... can it be possible that Harry's magic is healing him subconsciously...?” Dumbledore suddenly sat bolt upright as if shocked. “Arthur, you mentioned he was controlling a large amount of raw magical power. Was this power simply flowing around him, or was it making a specific shape?

“Well, yes, now that you mention it it was making three perfectly round rings rotating around him... but how-”

“How I know is not as important as what this signifies: Harry's magic has suddenly increased in power.” Dumbledore interrupted.

“But how can that be, Professor? I've never heard of that happening before in any of the journals on magic in the school's library,” asked Hermione, who had arrived the previous day, digging through her school bag. “Here is one account of the power levels of magic in children ages 11-25 throughout the last three hundred years: 'The level of magic in a child seems to increase in an upwards curve until they are 16, and then begins to curve inwards as if at a plateau, and then continue increasing at a much slower rate, seemingly for the rest of their lives.'”

“Yes, and I know of only one set of circumstances that would cause magical abilities to increase in the way they did... and I shudder to think that Harry could have anything to do with that particular ritual,” replied Dumbledore whose normal twinkling eyes had a dull, somber quality to them.

 

“R-ron? Mr. Weasley?” Harry's voice was barely over a whisper.

“Harry! You alright? What happened mate?” came Ron's energetic reply.

“I... I don't really know... we need to get Dumbledore here... he said he would know what to do...” with that Harry lapsed back into unconsciousness.

“Wait, who told you that? Harry?”

“Shh Hermione, let him sleep. He's had a rough time of it,” whispered Dumbledore as he covered Harry in a light blanket. “While I’m not certain what has happened, it appears he'll be alright in time. While we wait for him to return to us I shall floo to Hogwarts to collect some Magic Replenishing Potions and Rejuvenating Drafts from Madam Pomfrey. Molly, when he awakens he will likely be quite hungry, and so one of your delectable feasts would go a long way to aid in his recovery.”

With that, Dumbledore walked back over to the now normal fire, reached into his robes and threw some floo powder into the fire. Stepping in, he vanished in the green flames without stating his destination.

“How did he do that?” an astonished Ginny asked.

“One thing that is often not told to people, especially younger witches and wizards, is that you can access the Floo Network without voicing your destination if you are sufficiently proficient at wandless magic. This is usually not a subject of discussion as if your concentration varies for even a second you could end up somewhere entirely different, or the magic could become unstable and you could end up in several locations, which would, of course, be highly undesirable and unpleasant,” replied Arthur.

“Now then,” stated Molly. “Ginny, Hermione, if you would help me in the kitchen we can get working on that feast Professor Dumbledore suggested. You three watch Harry,” she said, pointing at Ron, Fred and George, tone offering no other options.

____________________________________________________________________

“There was no need to surprise me and drag me here,” huffed Draco. “I was perfectly fine with coming here, so you needn't have concerned yourself with that portkey.”

“Hurry it up, the Dark Lord is waiting and he does not tolerate lateness,” replied Bellatrix.

Walking down the dark corridors Draco could barely hide the contempt from his face. This is the home of the Dark Lord: it looked more suited to rats and other varmint. At least that rat, Pettigrew, will be at home.

Remembering that the Dark Lord was a skilled Legilimens, he began shifting his train of thoughts away from his so called treachery. It would not do to get killed the first time I met him... although I do hope this is the only time I have to see him... His thoughts were still on subjects dangerous to his health when Bellatrix spun to a stop in front of him.

“Before we go before the Dark Lord, you must know how he will expect you to act,” she sneered.

“I know perfectly well how to act in his presence. Father at least taught me that,” he copied her sneer perfectly.

“Yes, he was always one for protocol... however he also was one for grandstanding, which is how he managed to get himself captured. Do not make the same mistake, as it will likely be your last.”

“Yes, now I thought we were in a hurry?” Draco continued to sneer, outwardly radiating confidence while on the inside he was silently praying that his inner battle was not evident when he entered.

The doors at the end of the hall swung forward as he approached, and he entered a dark chamber, similar in furnishing to the tunnel he had arrived in. The only noticeable feature of the room was a throne like chair made of bone at the far end of the hall. Upon this throne sat the Dark Lord. Draco's first thought was of a snake mated with a vampire... Lord Voldemort was frightening to behold, and he couldn't see what attracted so many of his followers. Power alone isn't everything. Besides, he didn’t seem all that powerful at the moment, in fact he looked rather frail and thin. Thankfully his disdain was now masked by fear, the fear for his life as the cruel creature gazed at him. Off to Voldemort's immediate right stood Severus Snape, and Bellatrix quickened her pace to take the place to his left.

“Draco,” he hissed. “So good of you to join us. We were most pleased when our dear Bella volunteered to go fetch you for us. It is good to know that at least half your family is loyal in their service to us. We are most hopeful that you will fall into this half, most hopeful indeed.”

“Y-yes My Lord,” Draco replied, stuttering for the first time he could remember. “I wish to serve you and reclaim the name of Malfoy.”

“My Lord, I appologize for my interuption, however I have just been summoned by Dumbledore.” He gestured towards a small glass sphere held in his hand. “If my duplicity is to remain undetected, I must return to Hogwarts at once,” oozed Snape, his voice cool and smooth.

“Yes, you do us a great service by misleading that old fool. Hopefully with Draco's assistance that will no longer be a necessary task,” he turned his cold, red eyes on Draco. “As we have no way of getting close to the old fool of a headmaster, your task will be to kill him in our stead. Fail us, and I'm afraid your family will have come to an end. I hope we understand each other, Draco, for I am tired of the failings of the Malfoy family.”

“Yes My Lord, I will not fail you in this,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the floor.

“Good, then leave us. Bella, if you would show him the way out?” he asked, although all present knew it was no request.

“Of course, My Lord,” she bowed as she was walking away from his throne. “I will return to you as soon as I can.”

“Oh, and Bella, please see to it that his mother understands the importance of this task, and inform her that we will expect him to have been trained to succeed in this.”

“Yes, my Lord, I will make your wishes clear to her.” Bowing once more, she walked out the door, with them closing silently behind her.

______________________________________________________________________

 

“Harry! Wake up! It's just a dream! Wake UP!” Urged a frantic Ron. He had been watching Harry when he suddenly started shaking and moving in his sleep. The other furniture in the room had begun to shift as well, and Ron was panicked as he shook Harry awake.

“Ron?” Harry asked, bewildered by the sudden change from the dark chamber he was occupying through his link with Voldemort. “Ron!” he cried. “Where's Dumbledore I have to speak to Dumbledore!”

“What is it, my boy?” the focus of Harry's attention asked, entering from the kitchen.

“It's Draco, he-he's been tasked to kill you!” Absolute silence fell over the room. Everyone was staring at Harry as if he had grown a second head, or a third eye had popped up on his face. “You have to believe me! I saw it through my link with him! Snape said you summoned him, and he is on his way to Hogwarts now,” Harry said, hoping that that would confirm his story.

“Slow down Harry, I believe you. Voldemort must be quite mad with the Malfoys to task this to Draco. He surely knows there is no chance of success.” Dumbledore spoke in a calm voice. “You were wrong about one thing, Professor Snape is on his way here, not Hogwarts.”

“Here!?! But Professor, why would he be coming here?” asked Ron, totally bewildered as Snape had never shown anything but contempt for the Weasley family.

“He is coming because we asked him here,” inserted Mr. Weasley. “Albus believes we may have use of his... unique knowledge base.”

They were all interrupted by the loud gurgle coming from Harry's stomach. Startled, Harry glanced at his midsection; he hadn't realized he was hungry. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I don't know why I'm so hungry.”

“That's quite alright, dear,” replied Molly from the doorway of the kitchen. “Albus said you would be hungry when you woke up, you expended quite a large amount of energy today.”

“I did? What happened? I don't remember anything after I heard my uncle thundering up the stairs.”

“Nothing at all?” asked Dumbledore.

“Well... except for the strange dreams... there was singing... and a voice that told me that you would know what happened, professor?” Harry was looking from face to face, looking for signs that they thought him crazy.

“In these dreams, who's voice was it?” Albus asked intently.

“I don't know. I recognized the voice from somewhere, but I just can't seem to remember where...” Harry's stomached growled again, and Molly called a halt to the discussion.

“That's quite enough for now, you can talk after you eat. Professor Snape is on his way here to help in your recovery and help us discover what is wrong, so until then you must eat. Those muggle relatives of yours should be put on trial, it's almost criminal the way they starve you...” Molly trailed off, looking worried.

“Yes, I must agreee. I wish I had realized how poorly they treated Harry before now, I would have removed him long ago... Well, enough of that let's eat!” replied Dumbledore.

________________________________________________________________________

“Come along, Draco. I have more important things to do than to return you to your mother,” Bellatrix said impatiently.

“Yes Aunt Bella,” Draco said, increasing his speed. He had no desire to remain in that hole of a residence, nor did he wish to anger his volatile aunt.

Suddenly, Bellatrix rounded on him, grabbing his arm. “It is time to return to the Manor, allow me to inform my sister of your task,” she said in a disparaging tone. “I do not wish to stay there any longer than is necessary and I do not need you interrupting me while I speak, is that clear?”

“Yes, Aunt Bella” Draco replied, outwardly accepting but seething on the inside from her insults. At least he would be able to get rid of her quicker this way.

“Good,” Bellatrix sneered, once more activating a port key.

Landing in the main hall of Malfoy Manor, Bellatrix immediately called out to her sister.

 

“Bella? What news?” demanded Narcissa.

“The Dark Lord has tasked Draco with a most important task. He is to get close to Dumbledore and kill him. If he succeeds he will become one of the most honoured Death Eaters. If he fails, the Dark Lord will no longer need to worry about the Malfoy Line. You are to train Draco so that he may complete his task. I am sure you want him to succeed, perhaps even more than the rest of us,” she looked at Narcissa with contempt. “If he fails, the Dark Lord will likely see it as poor training on your part, and he does not forgive weakness.”

With that, Bella spun on her heels and marched out the main door.

“Draco? We must begin your training immediately. Dumbledore will not be an easy target to take out...”

“Mother! You cannot honestly agree with this? I have yet to come into my Magical Inheritance, not to mention the fact that he has at least a centuries’ experience on me!”

“No, Draco, I do not. However what choice do we have? If we do not go through with this the Dark Lord will have us killed. I fear it is a pointless exercise though... there is little chance you will be able to succeed, and if you do the ministry will have you Kissed...”

“Mother, there must be another way! I have no intention of killing anyone, especially not in service to him! Have you seen that rat-hole he lives in? And the way all his Death Eaters cower before him? It's despicable! He’s vile! I may die for it, but I will not dishonour myself by serving a creature such as him!”

“I fear there is no other way, Draco. Where else would we go?”

“We could go to Dumbledore. If we explain ourselves he'd protect us!”

“Draco, what makes you think Dumbledore would protect us? He believes we are on the side of the Dark Lord, what could we say that would make him think differently? Even Veritaserum wouldn’t help us, as there are Dark ways to get around it. He will simply think we are attempting to become spies.”

“I don't know, but we have to at least try! I will not become a murderer! I may have acted like an arrogant prat that was eager to join the Death Eaters before, but once I was faced with that option, I find myself disgusted. I will not kill anyone on his orders.”

“For tonight, let us rest. We can discuss this more in the morning. If it is still your wish to see Dumbledore we will make our way to Hogsmeade, and from there find our way into Hogwarts and see the Headmaster. Goodnight, my son. Sleep well, and fear not, we will find a way to survive this.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's enough for this chapter. I hope it isn't too bad of a place to end off, I never know when to finish a chapter... Let me know your thoughts in a review :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s continue:

Having finished the huge meal, courtesy of Molly, and several horrid potions, courtesy of Madame Pomfrey, Harry and Dumbledore sat down to further discuss their findings. The headmaster was peering at him over his half-moon spectacles, appearing to weigh his options, making Harry shift uncomfortably. After the professor’s hands-off approach from the previous year, he wasn’t sure if this sudden closeness was a good thing.

 

Dumbledore seemed to have come to a decision, as he leaned forward and peered into Harry’s eyes with an intensity that made him squirm in his seat. “I’m sorry, my boy, but I must ask. Have you performed any rituals or spells on yourself after hearing of the prophecy? I understand the prospect of being the only one capable of stopping Voldemort could be daunting, and you may have looked for ways of leveling the playing field, shall we say?” 

 

Unsettled, Harry took a minute to sort out his thoughts enough to form a reply. “Professor, I thought Remus would have told you. My magic isn’t working anymore. I can’t even light a candle without an explosion! I wouldn’t dream of trying to use magic on myself now!”

 

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was usually very good at reading people. The only two people he could recall that had escaped him were both the subject of a particularly nasty prophecy. Kill or be killed. That certainly changed people. Was Harry one who would be changed? He couldn’t afford the benefit of the doubt. He was old, even for a wizard, and he could not help one Dark Lord fall only to once again allow another to rise. He had made enough mistakes, first with Gellert in his youth, and then with young Tom when he was the Transfiguration Professor, and now with Harry. He needed certainty. “Harry, I was informed of your magical difficulty, but you evaded my question,” and most masterfully, he added to himself. “Did you, or did you not perform a ritual?” 

 

Startled by the extreme hostility the Headmaster was showing him, Harry kept his reply simple. “No, Professor, I did not. I don’t even know any rituals! We don’t start learning those until Newt level Charms class!”

 

With a relieved sigh, the headmaster of the premier school for magic sat back in the comfortable plush chair. “Thank you, Harry. I had to be sure. Your magic has increased incredibly in the past week, and the only way I know that could have caused it is the blackest of Black Magic.” Harry could only stare at him in shock. After everything that had happened, the professor was asking him if he had used Black Magic? “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t believe it either, but you must understand, I had to be sure. After I learned of your treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, well, the similarities were too close for comfort.” 

 

This latest comment brought out a puzzled frown on Harry’s face. “Headmaster, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.” 

 

“Of course, forgive an old man’s rambling. Tom Riddle, as you know, is also Lord Voldemort. However, what most do not know is that Tom Riddle was raised in an orphanage in the muggle world, and did not receive the best treatment. He turned to revenge, and well, you have seen the results far too frequently for my liking. Before you say anything, I want you to know that I do NOT believe that you and Tom are the same. That said, I had to be sure. I know all too well that mistakes can be made in one’s youth, mistakes that will haunt a man for the rest of his life.” 

 

Harry thought he must have closely resembled a goldfish, but he couldn’t find it in himself to control his reactions just yet. He knew he was nowhere near as smart as Hermione, and all this information at once was a little overwhelming. He was also curious as to why Dumbledore seemed so sad when he spoke of mistakes. For perhaps the first time, he realised that Dumbledore had been a teenager, just as he was now. Did he have to deal with the same things? Did he have things, like Cedric, like Sirius, that haunted him still? He squashed his curiosity after thinking about how he would feel if people asked him about his mistakes.

 

“So, my boy, let us shift this conversation to hopefully happier thoughts. You mentioned earlier that someone told you to contact me. Could you elaborate, please?” 

 

Harry nodded, and took a second to focus his mind. “Yes, sir. After I blacked out when uncle Vernon came up the stairs, I had a dream. It was dark everywhere, and there were voices singing, like nothing I’ve ever heard!” At this point, Harry looked down at his hands that he had clasped in his lap, and mumbled, “I thought at first that I was dead, because it was really peaceful and beautiful in its own way.” Harry became even quieter, and Dumbledore had to lean forward to catch his next words. “When I was thinking I was dead, I was glad, because at least that meant that no one else would die because of me. Suddenly there was a voice speaking to me, but now that I think about it, I couldn’t tell where it came from. It seemed everywhere! Anyways, the voice told me I was not dead, but in a healing sleep, told me that I would understand more soon, and that when I woke up I should talk to you.”

 

For one of the first times in his long memory, Albus was stunned into silence. Harry Potter, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, had just admitted that he had been glad when he thought he was dead. He understood, certainly, for no child should have to go through as much as young Harry, but imagine! If word got out to the papers, the war would be over before it even started! He had to speak to Poppy at once, see if there were any discrete Mind Healers that she knew of. After all, the Prophet and the Ministry had just finished saying that Harry was mentally unstable! Discretion was of the utmost importance, but Dumbledore knew that Survivors Guilt could tear a man apart, and Harry Potter, no matter what the public believed, was still just a boy. Still, though, Harry was nothing if not resilient. He had defeated Voldemort as a First year and a Second Year, he had survived His return in Fourth Year, and had thrown off a full possession attempt in Fifth year, for Merlin’s sake! If anyone could pull through, the Potter Heir would. 

 

“You have no idea who this voice may be, hmm?” At the shake of the black haired head, Dumbledore continued. “Well, then, it is getting late, and you have had quite the day. Perhaps we should retire for the night, and approach this fresh in the morning?”

______________________________________________________________________________

  
  


“Master Draco, Mistress would like to know if you would still be liking to see Dumblydore today?” Pinky asked after popping into the room.

 

“Let mother know that I will be down in a moment, Pinky.”

 

“Yes, master Draco.” replied Pinky before disappearing with a crack.

 

Draco sighed. What a right mess I have gotten us into. Let us hope that Dumbledore is willing to listen, and does not dismiss us immediately.

 

Checking his appearance in the mirror, Draco paused at the large door leading out of his room, admiring the design as he gathered his thoughts. The door was a deep Purpleheart, with inlays of Pink Ivory and African Bloodwood in intricate patterns and swirls. Reaching for the crystal door handles, which had been styled into the shapes of dragons with ruby tongues and emerald eyes, he exited into the hallway.

 

He made his way slowly to the grand staircase, then shook himself.  It will not do to have mother see me like this. I have to show an air of utmost confidence if we have any chance of winning over Dumbledore . Once more he donned his protective mask, showing the world what he felt it meant to be a Malfoy. After checking in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs to make sure he looked poised, and ignoring the mirror’s clucking about him being too thin, he entered the elaborate sitting room where his mother sat waiting for him.

 

“Draco, I assume your attire to mean you still intend to go through with this plan,” Narcissa raked her calculating eyes over her son. He was wearing a dark green silk shirt, with a small dragon emblem over his heart. His pants were made of dragon skin, with all the protective properties of dragon leather, but fit like dress slacks.

 

“Yes mother, I believe it the only way to ensure we survive. There is little chance we can kill Dumbledore, and that would be if I had any inclination to do so. There is also little chance I will be able to win Dumbledore's trust in one day, but that is hardly necessary. I just need to convince him I do not pose a threat and to give me a chance to prove myself.”

 

“Very well, Draco. You seem to have put a great deal of thought into this, so we will attempt it your way. We will floo to Hogsmeade immediately after breakfast.”

 

“Thank you, mother.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Harry, wake up!” Ron said, shaking him.

 

“Mmmfff.... Just a little longer...” mumbled Harry.

 

“Sorry, but Dumbledore's here to see you. He said he wants to take you to Hogwarts to practise your magic!” Ron sounded excited at the prospect Dumbledore was going to teach Harry himself.

“Ok, ok. I'm up. Let him know I'll be right down.” Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

 

After putting on his glasses, Harry moved to his trunk. Yawning as he reached for his robes, something told him to not use the billowy clothes that were standard for wizards. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a green t-shirt, he made his way downstairs to find Dumbledore sitting at the table sipping tea.

 

“Ah, Harry. I hope you do not mind that I took the liberty of inviting you to Hogwarts today so that we can work on your spellcasting.” Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischievously, like a child that had a wonderful prank planned. “I know of the perfect place to practise. There is little chance of anything being damaged there!”

 

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, blushing heavily.

 

“You are quite welcome, my boy! We've got to get recent matters under control before the start of term, otherwise I'm afraid there would be many more disasters than in recent year, wouldn't you agree?” Dumbledore asked, casting a glance between Hermione, Ron and Harry. “Ah, well, you should eat some of this delightful breakfast before we head off for your training.” He gestured toward the many dishes full of eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes.

______________________________________________________________________________

“Well, that was a magnificent breakfast,” Dumbledore said as he stepped out of the floo into his office. “Now come along, we must go through the entry hall towards the main staircases. There's a wonderful shortcut there that will allow us to skip the stairs up to the seventh floor.”

 

“The seventh floor? Sir, are we going to the Room of Requirement?” Harry smiled, sparing a glance to see Dumbledore's expression.

 

“That we are! I believe you found it immensely useful in the organization of 'Dumbledore's Army', did you not?” he asked as they rode the staircase down from his office.

 

Stepping out of the way of the statue as it closed the entrance to the headmaster's quarters and office, Harry simply nodded.

 

“Yes, well now you will be the student, and I the teacher. The Room of Requirement is shielded from most magics, so we will not be likely to cause any damage even if you were to channel too much energy into some overly powerful spell.”

 

As they were walking past the great hall, they heard a large banging coming from the entryway.

 

“I wonder who that could be,” Dumbledore asked absentmindedly.

 

“Who, Professor?” Harry asked, confused that such a noise would only illicit a mild curiosity.

 

“Yes, Harry. The doors have a charm on them to magically amplify the sound of someone using the door knockers. They are typically only used in the summer months.”

 

Moving quickly towards the doors, Dumbledore swung them open to find Narcissa and Draco Malfoy standing there.

 

“Ah, Draco, Narcissa, good to see you. I am unfortunately busy at the moment, but I would be happy to meet with you at a later date, perhaps?” Dumbledore stated politely but firmly.

 

“Headmaster, I really must speak with you,” Draco sounded desperate. “It is a matter of life and death for my mother and I.”

 

“I am quite aware of your situation, Draco, and I will speak with you on a day that I am not so busy.”

 

“Sir,” Harry said, “It's ok. You should talk with him.”

 

“Harry, your training is of the utmost importance. I fail to see how this could be more important.” He gestured at the Malfoys as if they were little more than an annoyance.

 

“Because he has no intention of going through with his task. I saw it in him when the task was given, sir. I just hadn't realized it yet. Now I can see he is terrified of the prospect of killing someone, especially you.”

 

“How can you tell, my boy?” Dumbledore was watching Harry with rapt attention, curious as to Harry's reactions.

 

Harry shrugged. “I don't know, sir. I just feel it.”

 

Draco’s face twisted into a sneer. “Of course. I can see now that if Potter's opinion means so much that we have no chance.”

 

“Drop the act, Malfoy. It may fool most people, but I can see right through it now. You’re terrified that we’ll reject you and refuse you help. You know you have no chance if you had to go up against Voldemort and his death eaters. Your last hope is with Dumbledore, and the protection you think he can offer,” Harry said, assured that he was right.

 

“Just like you Potter, are you honestly arrogant enough to assume you know what my son is thinking?” Narcissa asked hotly.

 

“Really? Look at your son. My words struck true. He has no intention of killing anyone, and you don’t want to go through with the training assigned to you by Voldemort.”

 

“You spew off information like it is fact, and a large portion of this information was disclosed in a closed chamber. How do you know these things?” Narcissa asked, eyeing Harry skeptically.

 

“Because of this!” Harry said viciously, as he moved his hair away from his scar. “This links me to him, and makes me see him. That’s how I know these things, as I saw them as they happened.”

 

“You said you saw then in Draco that he had no intention of killing. Could the Dark Lord have seen this as well?” she asked with a nervous glance at her son.

 

“That would be highly doubtful,” interjected Dumbledore. “If Voldemort had seen any sign of duplicity, young Draco would not be standing here before us and we would not be having this conversation. The Dark Lord does not forgive those that betray him.”

 

“Does this mean that you will protect us from him? We have been here, and you let us into the castle. The Dark Lord will expect us to have attempted something. When he finds you are still alive he will become suspicious of us, which is not something we can afford at present,” Narcissa said, appearing impassive.

 

“Professor, they are telling the truth. Voldemort would be very displeased with them, perhaps to the point of calling the mission a failure,” Harry said, still staring at the two Malfoys.

 

“Quite right you are, I'm afraid. I will have chambers prepared in the school for the both of you, if that suits your needs. I can assure you that the school is quite safe.”

 

“Thank you, Headmaster. We will not abuse this sanctuary you provide,” Narcissa said, letting some of the relief she felt seep into her composure. “Is there any way we could have some of our personal effects brought over? And perhaps our house elf, Pinky?”

 

“Yes, I will have the Hogwarts house elves go over to the manor and retrieve whatever it is you wish. Please provide me with a list of things you would like,” Dumbledore said, smiling serenely, while inwardly wondering at the new face to Harry he was seeing. Scarred Soldier, Scared Child, and now Skilled Diplomat? Something was off, and he did not like it at all.. “Now, if you will follow me I will show you to a sitting room where you can wait for Hogwarts to prepare the rooms.”

_____________________________________________________________________________

After dropping the Malfoys off in a sitting area, Dumbledore swept towards a large tapestry, showing the grand staircase of some opulent building.

 

“This way now, Harry,” Dumbledore walked straight at the tapestry.

 

“Professor, where are we going? I don't know of any passageways behind this tapestry.” Harry was shocked. He thought the Marauder's Map knew all the passageways in the school.

 

“Of course not, my boy. Very few people know of this passageway, and even fewer know how to use it,” the headmaster said as he was taking out his wand. After drawing the shape of a key in mid-air, there was a loud click, as if an enormous lock had been opened. “There we are, walk straight into the tapestry as if it were the barrier of platform 9 and ¾.”

 

Walking at the tapestry, Harry had the odd sensation that he was moving through some form of liquid. As soon as he touched the tapestry, he found himself stepping out of the wall on the seventh floor.

 

“That's amazing. Is this how you move around so quickly, professor?” Harry asked, glancing back at the wall that was once more solid.

 

“Yes, my boy. It is one of the many secrets of the castle, and has served me well for many years. Hogwarts provides passage to those in need.”

 

After having paced in front of the blank wall on the seventh floor three times, the Room of Requirement opened for them, showing a room much like the one Harry had used for the DA meetings.

 

“Here we are, in we go now, Harry,” Dumbledore gestured towards the door.

 

As he was walking into the room, Harry had a sudden thought. “Professor, I thought we were supposed to meet with Professor Snape at Ron's house.”

 

“Quite right, my boy. We will be meeting him there later tonight, as he had some things I required him to do first. Now in we go, we have some training to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? Harry and Draco being almost civil with each other? And me making you wait an entire chapter to finally see Harry practise his magic? Hmm... Anyways, let me know what you think. Reviews are always appreciated!  
> Foopy
> 
> As a side note, anything that seems out of place in a british home has to do with a) the fact that i am not british, and b) i am not going to go out of my way to keep this a "british" story.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s continue:

“A bit less power perhaps Harry?” Dumbledore remarked, casually flicking his wand at the burning rubble. “Concentration is key to most magics.”

 

Harry grumbled in frustration as his previous attempts at Lumos had caused his wand to shoot beams of burning light throughout the room, incinerating the first object they made contact with. Gathering his thoughts, he tried to actively channel less power into his wand. “Lumos,” Harry said, trying to keep his emotions under tight control.

 

A loud snap filled the room, and Harry found himself picking himself up off the specially cushioned floor. “This is impossible,” he grumbled, frustrated by his lack of success.

 

“On the contrary, my boy! We've already made some progress, that last spell was a deal more focused, if not less powerful.” Dumbledore seemed to think that Harry having blown himself across the room was of no cause for alarm. “You've been able to stop the light from leaving the wand tip, now you need to focus on using less power. I believe you will be able to master other spells much more easily when you have a starting point to base your power levels.”

 

“I hope so. I don't feel like being blown up by one of my own spells,” replied Harry as he walked through the room to retrieve his wand. “Lumos,” he said, once more concentrating on nothing but the spell.

 

There was a slight whooshing, and his wand lit up. It was several orders too bright, but it hadn't destroyed anything this time, which Harry figured to be an improvement. Cracking a smile, Harry turned to Dumbledore. “Seems you're right, professor!”

 

A low whining sound reverberated through the room, accompanied by the wand tip growing much brighter very quickly. A sudden bang, and Harry once more found himself air-born, soaring in the opposite direction of his wand.

 

“You need to concentrate, Harry. The amount of power you now control is far more than you are used to, and until you can contain it while concentrating you should not try anything else.” Dumbledore calmly walked over to pick up Harry's wand, only to notice the wand tip was lit up like a proper Lumos spell. “Harry, let go of your magic. Your spell is still active.”

 

“Nox,” Harry intoned, pointing at his wand nearly 30 metres away.

 

“Thank you,” the headmaster said as he bent over to pick up the wand. “Now, I want you to work on further controlling the Lumos spell. Let us see if we can get the light level down to the proper level before lunch time.”

 

Sighing, Harry once more took his wand and prepared to cast the most basic of spells. “Lumos,” he said quietly. The wand tip once more lit up, still much too bright. Trying to limit the flow of his magic, Harry stared at the wand, ignoring everything else. The light started to grow dimmer, then spread so the wand appeared to be a line of light appearing in Harry's hand. The spell was now at the proper level of light, but covering a much larger area than before.

 

“Most interesting,” Dumbledore stated as if observing a lab experiment. “It appears that your magic does not wish to be any more contained than that. It is possible that, with time, you may learn better control. I dare say that you did not get to Sixth Year in one day! Let us go eat. We can return here for further practice when you are rested.”

 

“Thanks, sir,” Harry breathed, quite through with spell casting for the minute. “Nox.”

 

“Harry, please let go of your magic.”

 

“But sir, I just did.” A glance around the room showed nothing unusual, so he was unsure as to what Dumbledore could be referring.

 

“Harry, you seem to have done something to make yourself invisible. It is possible you are simply blocking the light from leaving your body, making you invisible. The muggles have a lovely idea on how our eyes process light that could be applied to new invisibility spells, if most wizards weren’t so certain they knew everything. Concentrate on returning to normal, please.”

 

Invisible?  Harry thought.  I can see myself. Usually with invisibility magic I can't see myself either... Shaking himself, he closed his eyes and pictured his magic flowing through his body. He noticed some was extending beyond him, before curling back in on itself.  That must be it. Now how am I supposed to stop it? Thinking of the way water moves, he thought to make a wall around his body so that the magic wouldn't escape.

 

“Much better, my boy! This is a most puzzling discovery. I have never heard of a spell being twisted in such a way,though it is also true that I have never heard of a case quite like yours. Perhaps I should start a journal of our discoveries. It could prove an invaluable tool for the future. Let us go collect the Malfoys, and make our way down to the lunch.”

__________________________________________________________________________________

 

 

“Draco, we will be meeting the Headmaster and Potter for lunch.” Narcissa fixed her son with a cold stare. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Something is strange with that boy, and it would not do for you two to get in a fight.”

 

“Something is always strange with Potter,” Draco mumbled while nodding to his mother.

 

“This is different, Draco, and you know it. He was not acting himself at all this morning. I might have an idea as to why, however for now I will keep that to myself.”

Sighing, Draco agreed with his mother.  He was far more civil than he's ever been. He was the one that convinced Dumbledore to listen to us, and he appeared to be completely at ease with it too. I have to work to appear that calm in situations like that. Bah, Diplomacy.  He had been taught the Art of Speech from a young age, but he still would much rather hex someone and be done with it than to attack with words like a proper High Society Heir.

 

While Draco was deep in thought, he missed the Headmaster walk in. “If you are hungry, we were just on our way down to lunch. Would you care to join us?”

 

Even though Professor Dumbledore had asked in his usual calm tones, Draco spun around as if shocked. With a reproving glance at her son for his lack of composure, Narcissa agreed to accompany them to the Great Hall.

 

Walking along the hallway, Draco noticed the portraits were whispering to each other while pointing at Harry. When they noticed him watching, they giggled and started an even more excited conversation, all the while glancing between the two boys. Pushing it out of his mind, Draco started to wonder over Harry's recent behaviour.

 

He and Dumbledore have been training for something, but why in the Room of Requirement? I would think they would have simply used a classroom. With Harry's new behaviour I'm not even sure they are practising magic...

 

Draco was startled out of his thoughts when they walked into the Great Hall. Instead of the house tables, or even the single table used during the Christmas Holidays, there was a small single table set for four people. Even though they had said they were eating lunch together, he never would have thought it would have been like this. Glancing over at Harry, he watched as the expression of mild shock quickly molded itself into a polite diplomatic visage, more fitting to a world conference than a simple lunch.

 

“Is there a specific chair you would prefer, Mrs. Malfoy,” he heard Harry ask, while he gestured to the table.

 

“No, thank you, Mr. Potter,” his mother replied, while she gave a slight nod, as if ticking something off on a mental checklist.

 

“Well, the house elves have given us a wonderful setup for our meal, and are no doubt hopping about waiting to serve us. Shall we?” Professor Dumbledore gave a small smile as he swept towards the table.

 

As they sat down, Harry was looking around as if for the food. Snickering to himself, Draco pulled his plate, silver with glowing green borders, closer and spoke clearly, ordering a seared fillet mignon, with french green beans and baby red potatoes.

 

Harry noticed that his plate was gold with glowing red borders, but when he touched it to bring it closer it flashed a bright blue and settled into a swirling pattern of blue and white.

 

“Um, Professor?” Harry asked, gesturing at his plate.

 

“Well, this is a most interesting turn of events. Harry, did you try to cast any spells on the plate?” Dumbledore asked after having picked up the plate and looking it over.

 

“No, when I touched it, it started doing that,” he said, as he gestured at the glowing plate.

 

Dumbledore took out his wand and waved it around the plate a couple times. “Well, there is no sign of any magic being applied to the plate since its creation, so perhaps it is simply confused about what house colours to use for you. Tell me, Harry, why did the hat take so long to sort you into Gryffindor all those years ago?”

 

“Um, well,” Harry glanced at Draco and his mother, then made up his mind. “It wanted to put me in Slytherin, sir. I told it I didn't want to be a Slytherin though.”

 

“I see,” Dumbledore replied, while peering over his glasses. “And why, precisely, would a boy that knew next to nothing about the workings of this school not wish to be in Slytherin?”

 

Harry glanced over at Draco one last time, blushing a deep scarlet. “Well, sir, I had met a boy in Diagon Alley, and he was sorted into Slytherin. I didn't want to be anything like him, so I told the hat not to put me in Slytherin. It argued with me, telling me that Slytherin would make me great, but I refused.”

 

Draco's head shot up from staring at the plate, a look of shock all over his face. His cheeks went a few shades pinker when he realised which event Harry was talking about. Thinking back on the day in Madam Malkin's store, he realised he had made an ass of himself.

 

“Mr Potter, are you telling us that the Sorting Hat actually conversed with you during the sorting?” Narcissa's face told of her disbelief as she asked this.

 

“Yes, it did. It spoke with me a couple times since then as well. I thought it spoke with everyone.”

 

“No my boy, aside from the start of term speech it gives, the Sorting Hat is a rather silent being,” Dumbledore replied while stroking his beard in thought.

 

“Headmaster, if you would, I ask a moment of your time in private,” Narcissa asked, indicating towards the large entryway outside of the Great Hall.

 

“Certainly Mrs. Malfoy...”

 

Narcissa cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Black, if you would. I wish nothing to do with that man any longer.”

 

Harry looked up from the table, his eyes glowing a light blue. “Names are powerful, Narcissa Black. Is it truly your wish to be known as such? Speak true, for what is set in motion shall not be undone, nor undertaken lightly.”

 

Quickly snapping out of her surprised stupor, Narcissa replied that she indeed wanted to sever her ties with Lucius Malfoy, and those of her son as well.

 

“So mote it be. From this day forth Draco Black, formerly known as Draco Malfoy, and Narcissa Black, formerly known as Narcissa Malfoy, shall have no ties to Lucius Malfoy. The guardians of magic have spoken!”

 

With Harry's last word, a brilliant flash of light flew from his body racing away. Everywhere it went it exchanged Black for Malfoy in the familial lines. As the pulse of light was fading, Harry slumped forward on the table, sleeping lightly.

 

“Headmaster, I believe you have understated the boy's condition. Is this a contagious affliction? Are we at risk?”

 

“No, he is most certainly not contagious. This is a very specific event. I'm afraid without his permission, though, I shall not share any further information with you.”

 

“Very well. I take it the Guardians of Magic have some significance that I am missing? Are they somehow related to the Olde Ways or the Ministry?” Narcissa bowed her head in a slight nod when Dumbledore refused her question for more information on Harry, thinking it most fair of him; she would hardly want him to be giving out information about Draco, whether they were now allies or not.

 

“No, the Guardians are the last remnants of the ones who gifted the lower races with magic. Their name has been lost to history, but they are referred to, always, as the Old Ones."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! Who are the Old Ones? What do they have to do with Harry? What is happening that has awoken the Guardians? Stay tuned for the answers to these questions and much much more! As always, reviews are cherished :)
> 
> Foopy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply: If you are underage, please leave as it's the law. If you DO choose to stay, then please be advised that it is against the law to be reading this. This story will contain content of a homosexual nature (that’s m/m) with underage (in our world at least) guys, and if this offends you, then do not blame me if you continue reading. If you like it, don't forget to review! Now without further ado, let’s continue:

Harry slowly sat back up, eyes still glowing blue with power. “You are the Headmaster of this school, are you not?” he asked of Dumbledore, though his voice had many qualities as if spoken by thousands.

“Yes, I am. May I enquire as to whom I am speaking?” The headmaster had his wand in hand, surprising Draco and his mother, as they couldn’t believe how quickly the old man had moved.

“I am Trell Pow'Treer, last Guardian of the Tsir'Sal. As you are the headmaster, I demand Hiir'Vhol for my host body.” While speaking, Harry swayed as if unsteady, before bracing himself back up.

“I'm sorry, but I haven't the foggiest what Hiir'Vhol is, Guardian.” The headmaster appeared concerned for Harry's health, as he had recently collapsed and was now holding himself up. He lowered his wand though, as he knew a Guardian would never harm a child.

Grimacing, the Guardian replied “Hiir'Vhol is the demanding of retribution against those that have abused a child. Where Hiir'Chas is simply a term of imprisonment, Hiir'Vhol is the term stating that their Charsol would be given to the child to return them to the strength and abilities they should have. This host was abused ever since the death of his parents by those he was given to for protection. They will pay, and he will be restored to full health.”

“I'm sorry, but I must say I am still confused. What is a Charsol, and how will it heal Harry? If it will help him, I will help you in any way I can.”

“Charsol is that which flows through all beings. I am unsure how to explain it other than the energy of life. The energy from the abusers will fuel the fires of creation, and I shall wield that to heal the one you call Harry.”

Dumbledore paused a moment before asking, “Will this process drain all the energy, and thus kill them? Even with how much he was abused, I don't see Harry ever wanting to kill them.”

“As much as they deserve death, no. It will, however, leave their life shorter than it could otherwise be. How much shorter is impossible to say, but there has never been a case where it would take more than 15 years from a single person.”

“I think that we can agree that should be acceptable. Will there also be a prison term included?”

“If the Order still existed, they would be taken by the Wyk Watchers of the Void to Sasl Ar Vuul, The Prison Without Time. As it is, we have no way to enforce this. We must leave it up to you to deal with.”

“What must we do for this to take place? Is there any ritual?” Dumbledore's interest was certainly piqued, and his urgent tone showed that he wanted to help heal Harry as soon as possible.

“This child is exceedingly weak for a Host. His body is having issues containing my power, and thus the loss of memories and consciousness. As such, I will need a channel through whom I can direct my power. As much as you are willing, the best choice, other than one of my own people, would be a member of the Alfkain. They would be the most suited to channelling this amount of power.”

“Alfkain, I know I have heard that word somewhere...” Narcissa was looking at Harry with a renewed interest, looking as if she would like nothing more than to study him.

“Really? It is not a term I am familiar with,” stated Dumbledore, frowning in thought.

“This is troubling. If you do not know of the Alfkain, it is possible they have moved beyond this world, as we did eons ago. It will be a great deal harder to perform this ritual now.” The eyes of the ancient Guardian inhabiting Harry grew distant for a moment, before clearing. “Yes,difficult, but not impossible. If you have a Rune Master, and a Master of Arithmancy, I will need to speak to them so that we can make the adjustments needed. So you know in advance and can explain to Harry, his physical appearance will certainly change. He will find himself taller, and likely more defined and less skinny. He will also find that his mental acuity will increase, however that is a less precise area of study, as the brain is incredibly complicated. The last change is that he will be able to remember when I am here, and will be able to block me if he so chooses. However, no Host has ever wanted to, for we offer many benefits, and come into play only for their protection, or in times of great stress. We also teach them many things that are lost to the Wizarding community.”

“I must go now, however I have one last piece of advice. This enmity between Draco Black and Harry must cease. The turmoil within Harry is calmed by the blond one's presence for some unknown reason, and so I suggest they stay in close proximity. Now that the Blood Compulsions and other spells are no longer valid, that should be easier to achieve. I will talk with you when next I can, for now I must let Harry rest.” With that last farewell, he stood and flicked his fingers at the chair, turning it into a large bed. Climbing in, he released his hold on Harry, and he instantly fell into a deep sleep.

“What did he mean by Blood Compulsions, Headmaster?” Narcissa was watching her son's reactions, and they were not precisely what she had come to expect from him. In fact, she recalled, his actions the past month were much more that of her family, and less of Lucius.

“I would have to examine him to be certain, but it seems that Lucius had placed some Familial ties on young Draco to control his actions.”

“Please, Professor, would you?” Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Very well. You may feel a slight tingling, but try not to move while the spell does its work.” Dumbledore made several complicated wand movements in the air, drawing out golden sigils. He slowly circled Draco, forming several strange shapes around him as he went. “This is an ancient diagnostic charm I was taught when I was much younger by a very old mage travelling from the icy city of Orenth, in the northern reaches of Canada. It reveals a great many things that the standard spells miss.” Dumbledore finished with the sigils, and, with a flick of his wand, sent them into Draco. “Oh my, yes. It appears there were a great many compulsion charms and mood-controlling charms placed on Draco, for a great many years. The first one, in fact, was applied moments after birth. There was also something that this spell could not trace, which is worrying. I do know that it was exceedingly Dark, but that is all.”

“How would I not know about these spells? Draco never left my sight during the first week after his birth.” Narcissa, totally affronted by Lucius' actions, was even more certain she had chosen the proper path when she returned herself to the name of Black. “Is it possible I have been similarly spelled? Would you perform that spell on me so that I am certain?”

“Certainly. It will take a while longer, as you have had many more years to experience magic than young Draco here. A reading such as this will grow more and more difficult the older and more powerful a being is. I would hesitate to cast it at one such as myself, and completely refuse to cast it at Harry while the Guardian is present. Such knowledge would be likely to drive the caster insane.”

“I see. What information, exactly, does it relay to you?” Narcissa asked, cautious now that she understood more.

“Every spell cast at you, whether they hit or not. Every spell that has ever affected you, such as portkeys, wards, apparating, the floo system, and any number of other things. But, I do not get details. For instance, I would know you encountered wards entering Hogwarts, but I would not get specifics unless they were designed to harm you or subvert your control. May I proceed?” Dumbledore gestured his wand towards her. She nodded her head in acquiescence, and he started the process for the spell once more. “Well, unlike in Draco, there are no compulsions or mood spells. However, there are a large number of memory modifications, some going back nearly 25 years.”

“I see. So, that man thought he would control our lives? He will learn that a Black is not under the control of anyone.” Narcissa took a chance to glance at her son, who appeared very distracted. In fact, he seemed to be in a whole world of his own. “Draco, are you feeling alright? You have been rather quiet throughout these proceedings.”

Appearing startled, he looked up at his mother. “Oh, I'm fine mother, I've just been thinking. Harry survived the Killing Curse at birth, and is the host to a Guardian. I've only ever heard myths about the Olde Ones, but the legends state that they could shape the world to their whims. Ancient Cultures worshiped some of them as gods, for Merlin’s Sake! He has all this power, why is it truly showing up now?” He glanced down at his feet, and then mumbled “he even decided what house he got put in based on me, but it wasn't even me. How are we supposed to put all that aside like the Guardian said?”

“Draco, you are not to blame for any of this. That monster of a man will get his just desserts.” Narcissa's eyes held a dangerous glint, a fiery passion that promised retribution. “As to the Guardian's words, I am not fully certain. What I do know, however, is that every rumour, every fable and fairy tale, every memory of the Olde Ones say that when a Guardian gives advice, only a fool ignores it. Now that we know the stories of the Olde Ones are true, we can also research to help Mr. Potter deal with this.”

“Yes, that is quite correct. The Guardian Council rarely interferes so directly in the lives of mortal beings. When they do, the wisest course is to follow them. As to your offer of research, I would be most appreciative, as I’m sure Harry will be. If you wish, I can ask the house elves to bring your library to an unused room for now? In any case, Narcissa, I believe you wanted to ask me something in private?” Dumbledore asked, motioning towards the hallway outside the Great Hall.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Minister, you need to read this report,” Senior Undersecretary Dolores Umbridge placed a small folder full of papers on the Minister for Magic's desk, with the official Ministry seal on the folder.

“What is it, Dolores?”

“That Potter child needs to be dealt with. It seems he ignores the law, just as he ignores all the rules in Hogwarts. Just this past week he used his magic to assault his muggle uncle, and nearly tore their house apart. The muggle authorities even got involved, something about an earthquake and a Size-Mode-Graph, whatever that is. The uncle is currently in the hospital, and the block around his house shows extensive damage. If the muggles hadn’t termed this an earthquake, our Obliviators would have been tied up for months!”

“Seems we now have cause to pursue that arrogant child. Perfect. Arrange a hearing for him. He will be brought under Ministry control or he will be thrown in prison.” Minister Fudge looked all too happy, carefully plotting how he would gain even more prestige and power.

“Right away, Minister,” Dolores replied, voice laced with malevolent glee. She turned to leave, just as an aide came rushing in.

“Minister,” the aide puffed, clearly out of breath. Taking several deep gulps of air, he started to explain himself. “My apologies for the abrupt entrance, Sir. It has come to our attention in Record Keeping that Draco and Narcissa Black, formerly known as Malfoy, have had their names magically changed. The exact method is unknown, but what we do know is that it is fully legally binding. Not only that, but anywhere their former names were written now read Draco Black, or Narcissa Black, depending on the situation. What's more, we can no longer refer to them as Malfoys. It appears that Magic has been manipulated by powers far beyond any I can imagine.”

The minister appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then came to a decision. “Dolores, contact the Department of Mysteries. Perhaps they know something we do not. Put the trial for Potter on hold, this takes precedence. We need to know what caused this. Someone or something with that much power could be an enormous threat, especially if they are associated with that family. We also need to know the repercussions to current contracts with the changing of these names. They are a very politically inclined family, and hold a great deal of power.”

Dolores hurried from the room to take care of her new task, silently cursing the aide. She smiled slightly when she realized the trial was only on hold, not ended.

Back in the Minister's office, Fudge was trying to think of what else may be necessary. “I need to have all contracts involving the Malfoys and the Blacks to be brought to me. Sort them by date starting with the most current, and go back as far as you can. Get the others of your department to help.”

The aide had finally managed to compose himself, and nodded before realizing who he was dealing with. Blushing, he replied, “Yes Sir. Is there any other criterion you want them indexed by?”

“No, just by date. I have a feeling about this. Something is happening, and I intend to find out and make sure it is not a threat to the Wizarding world,” or to my position, thought Fudge.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“... he was spotted hiding in France and Belgium. We think he has come to England now, however we lost track of him close to the Channel.” A Death Eater was on his knees, giving his report to his Dark Lord.

“Ssso. We give you a ssssimple tasssk, and you can't even finish that?” Voldemort hissed out, clearly displeased. 

“My lord,” the Death Eater whimpered. “We had him in our sight the entire time. Just as the sun set, a flash obscured our vision, and then he was gone.”

“FOOLSSSSS!” Lord Voldemort whipped his wand towards the cowering Death Eater. “Crucio!” His high, cold laughter filled the room as the man writhed at his feet. Relenting, he once more hissed at the Death Eater. “Get out! Don't come back until you have the child!”

The Dark Lord stormed into his chambers, fuming about incompetent Death Eaters. His internal rant was interrupted when Bellatrix entered. “Bellatrix, isss there a reassson you come before ussss uninvited?” Voldemort asked, voice dangerously low.

Bowing low, she replied, “Yes my lord. This morning my sister returned to the family as a Black.”

“So, your sister finally divorced that worthless husband of hers. Why should we care?” His voice had by now lost some of the hissing quality it obtained when exceedingly angry, as Bella was always one of his favourite followers.

“My lord, that is not exactly what I meant. Here is a letter she wrote to me, over a year ago. It has her signature at the bottom. It now reads Narcissa Black, however when I received it, it had her former name. Also, it is now impossible to refer to her as anything other than Narcissa Black. The Malfoy name is no longer associated with her in any way.”

“Most interesting. We will have to look into this. This magic is not known to us.”

“Yes, my lord. I had thought you might want to know.”

“You have done well, dear Bella. We are always most pleased with you.” With that, Voldemort clearly dismissed her, and she left, happy that her interruption had not ended in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This seems a good place to stop. As usual, let me know what you think. Criticism is always welcomed! (For without criticism, how would one grow?)


	7. Chapter 7

“Yes, Professor, I would still like to speak with you if you have a moment,” Narcissa asked, forcing her gaze away from the enigma that was Harry Potter.

 

“Of course. Draco, if Harry is to wake up while we are gone, please let us know.” Dumbledore motioned towards the enormous doors of the Grand Hallway for Narcissa to follow him.

 

Once out in the hallway, Narcissa turned towards the headmaster and asked in a whisper, “Professor, I need to know. Is Family Magic more than just stories told by the Pureblood Families? I've never, until now, had reason to believe the stories. I went along with Lucius as that is what was expected of me. Now though, I feel it is important to know.”

 

Letting out a great sigh, Dumbledore stared into Narcissa's eyes. “What is said in confidence shall not be spread around, is that clear?” Dumbledore's tone brooked no other options. Apparently satisfied with her response, he continued, “Certain families do, indeed, have gifts associated with them. However, this has nothing to do with Blood Purity, as Voldemort and his ilk believe. Instead, it is believed that it has to do with ancestral ties to Old Magic, which has a will of its own. What made you think to ask?”

 

“I remember stories from my grandmother about Charlus Potter, Harry's grandfather, having 'A Magical way with politics, the likes I have never seen.' As he was married to her sister, I believe she would know about such things. I believe I have seen the same gift inside Harry in the dealings with him today. He defused a potentially deadly confrontation this morning when we first arrived, and then, as proper Wizarding Custom demands, offered me a chair at the meal table. None but the most traditional of the old families follow the Ancient Customs set down to discourage wars, and so how would Harry Potter, who was raised by Muggles, know to do so?”

 

“Ah yes, well. What you must understand is that the more powerful a wizard is, the more likely a Family Gift, if there is one, will surface. And so it stands the reason the magical gift is quite strong, and possibly only just appearing in young Harry, is because of the recent emergence of the Guardian and this new well of power. How the individual gifts of different families come about, I'm not fully certain, however I do know that certain families can have more than one Gift, based on power level. It is possible the Guardian meant to warn us obliquely about that possibility.”

 

“The power this boy contains is astounding. I have only heard stories about what a Host to the Old Ones can do, and they are more fables than histories. There is much truth to fables, however they tend to exaggerate certain details. Nonetheless, the powers of a host are very real, as we saw a slight demonstration of them today. My name is now magically tied to Narcissa Black. I am not sure if you realize how incredible that is, but every contract I have ever signed now will have to be ratified by me, otherwise they will be void. This is not simply as if I had divorced that man. Instead, it is as if I had never married him, and Draco was born a Black. Even Magical Parentage Testing would turn up that Draco's father is not Lucius Malfoy.”

 

“Intriguing. I had not realized the power of that spell. Does this mean you are now head of the Black Line?” Dumbledore asked, rubbing his beard in thought.

 

“I thought you would have known! Harry Potter is head of the Black Line, as Sirius was his godfather in Magic and in Oath. He was declared head of the Black Line at the same time he was declared an adult by magic. That is partly why I wished to return to the Black family when it was offered. Binding us by Magic, and through Magic, blood, to Harry Potter is the best protection I could hope for my son.”

 

For the first time in her memory, Dumbledore truly appeared shocked as he answered. “A most ingenious plan! You were rid of Lucius and gained protections through blood at the same time! I must admit, I am pleasantly surprised to see you returning to the Black family, and their ways of thinking. Your sister and aunt excluded, they are much more level headed than the Malfoys ever were.”

______________________________________________________________________________

 

Draco watched his mother and headmaster walk out into the hallway, and then turned back to watch Harry sleep.  The headmaster told me I have to tell him as soon as he wakes up. That's the only reason I'm watching him. It isn't ‘cause he’s incredibly cute while he's sleeping, with that small smile on his face...

 

Draco sat bolt upright as he suddenly realized where his thoughts had gone.  Bloody Hell. Why Potter, of all people? We've never gotten along, not to mention the whole Guardian bit. How would that even work? Besides, when have I ever thought a guy was cute? It must be the stress. Too many shocks at once. Told to kill the most respected man in the Wizarding world, finding out I had been controlled all my life, having my name changed... That must be it!

 

Deciding that he should think of other things, he began analyzing his life up to that point.  I like quidditch, at least that hasn't changed. I wouldn't imagine he would have wanted to control my eating habits, so that is not likely to change either. Relationships with people though, that I have no idea how to handle. As far as I know, all of my friends are completely insane in their devotion to the Dark Lord. The one person I know without a doubt I want to get to know may hate me, my father's a lunatic, a madman that wants to see the world turn to ruin now also wants me dead as an example to his followers, not to mention the fact that I'm having feelings for Potter... Even if he doesn't hate me, he wouldn't be able to DATE me, and even if he could, I would never be permitted to, not when there's no possibility of an heir. It's a good thing I seem to like both, I'd hate to be strictly gay and still have to be married to some rich pureblooded girl.

 

While he was lost in thought, Draco failed to notice the changes happening around the great hall. The floating candles that lit the room had begun shimmering, becoming liquid in appearance. They had slowly become more rounded in shape, when suddenly the flame disappeared into the now-spherical balls of white-blue energy. Further changes were taking place around the room, yet the platinum-blonde was still oblivious.

 

The floor had melted and reshaped, forming a single slab of brilliant white marble. The outer walls of the room had shifted into huge pillars of clear crystal, with sapphire detailing at key places. The ceiling, which usually displayed the weather, had changed to show an enormous mountain range, and at the centre of the mountains, hidden from sight by the tall peaks, was a cave that glowed a dull red. 

  
           Draco was finally startled from his thoughts when Harry sat up, opened his mouth, and                       emitted a  roar like an angry dragon. After getting over the further shock that Harry could roar, he noticed his surroundings and gasped. Not expecting the echoing roar that came from the scene in the ceiling, and already unsettled, Draco fell out of his chair with a muffled thump at the same time that the great doors to the hallway flew open with the Headmaster and his mother seemingly prepared for battle. He watched as they blinked in shock, and then hurried over to Harry who was just collapsing back into his bed. As soon as his head touched the pillow, mist started floating from the new surroundings, and the Great Hall slowly reverted back to its old appearance.

 

“Morgause and Morgana! What the bloody hell just happened!?!” 

 

“Draco! Mind your tongue!” Narcissa appeared flustered by the turn of events as well, but her Pureblooded training took over as she admonished her son for his foul language, not to mention the audience. She appeared briefly satisfied as her son’s pale complexion was overtaken by a furious blush, but then quickly turned back to the Headmaster, hoping for answers.

 

“Language aside, I believe young Mr. Black stated it quite well. It appears that this is yet another puzzle we will have to await an answer for, as the only one who may have the slightest amount of information appears to be sound asleep, once more. Perhaps we should move back to the table for a spot of tea?” 

 

Exchanging glances that clearly stated the headmaster was barmy, Draco and his mother made their way back to the table that Dumbledore had moved away from the bed. Whether he was a crazy old coot or not, the professor was still the most knowledgeable person in the room, and they figured they would get more answers with the tea.

 

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He slept. For how long, he knew not, but the world was young and covered in life when he last flew through the sky. His den was warm, heated by a small lava flow, and he was content. He knew he should find out why he had not been called, but magma was so much more soothing than the cold air. Besides, his last caretaker, Silendra, a tiny thing with a kind heart and tasty food, had told him that he would be called, and he trusted her word. Deciding that all was well, he tucked his tail closer to his heat source, and drifted back to his slumber.

 

Startled awake from his dreams of furry creatures as large as his caretaker’s house, he blinked open his eyes and looked around. Snaking his tongue from between his fangs, he tasted the air only to recoil in shock, and gave a roar of displeasure.  What is that horrid smell? It’s as bad as the time Silendra and I went exploring, and all the things she kept in that box that made frost in her house turned to waste! Bah!  He uncoiled his long neck to bring his head outside his den, and a small puff of steam rose from the air when he snorted in shock,  Creators above! I slept far longer than I had thought! My lovely lava field is gone, cooled and made into mountains topped with horrid snow! There’s nothing here but ice and snow, what is causing that horrid smell?  Deciding he needed to investigate, the enormous dragon-like creature finally uncurled from his warm pool, and lumbered out into the cold. Giving a great stretch to shake off the last of his sleepy mood, he stretched out his wings, and took off through the peaks.

 

He flew through many peaks, growing more and more annoyed.  This mountain range is endless! Which of those foolish creatures decided to make such a thing around my home?  Finally flying through the last of the snow-capped peaks, he went in search of what Silendra called a ‘village’.  Hmph. She says I must not eat them, but then why place so many in such small areas if not to signify a buffet? They even leave large open spaces for us to land! These young beings are such strange creatures. Quickly coming upon a settlement, he flicked his long forked tongue out once more.  What? These are not Alfkain! No, they smell far too young. And what is that terrible smoke rising from their rumbling metal beasts!? What strange manner of creature are these? I can’t even find the slightest trace of magic in any of them! And why are they running in shock? I’m hungry, they should be bringing me tasty treats!  Realising that some were not, in fact, running away, but approaching him carefully holding out strange black metal devices, he decided that perhaps they needed to send a delegation to find his likes first. Most kind of them indeed! Those creatures Silendra kept with the curly fur and pointy horns were such a pain to eat. He had to wash his mouth out with lava for hours before he could get them out of his teeth!

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Qian Li Xun was not having a good day. First, his second-in-command had broken his leg and couldn’t work, and then his district commander had decided that the upper-levels of the police force needed to show a more hands-on approach for the local people. Politics. How he hated politics.

 

At 35 years old, he figured he was doing pretty well for himself. He was head of the local law enforcement in a small town near Mount Everest, and the views were just amazing! Yes, life was nearly ideal, other than politics. Until today. 

 

When he first had the report of something flying through the peaks of the Himalayas, he figured it was the Americans trying to sneak some sort of spy-craft into the country undetected. Then he heard reports of flapping wings and a huge body, and thought perhaps the government was testing out some new sort of aircraft that didn’t have fixed wings. That was until he saw it. Fúcánglóng himself was flying towards the town! Cursing his luck, he called the dispatch and told them to ‘send everyone! Fúcánglóng himself is flying to the town to take our riches back to the earth!’. 

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Hmm, these are strange little creatures, aren’t they? Why are they all talking into those little boxes? And what is that metal beast with the long pole sticking out the front?  The dragon had been watching them for some time now, and none had made an effort to approach. Deciding that perhaps they were shy, as it was not often they met one as magnificent as himself, he moved to give them the standard greeting between parties meeting for the first time. He spread his wings as wide as they would go, placed his head close to the ground, and let forth a deep rumble that vibrated the loose stones, and caused some of the buildings nearby to crack.  What horrible workmanship! Even the Goblins in their dirt holes have better crafters! 

______________________________________________________________________________

 

It had been 4 hours since the dragon landed in the middle of a field, and all it had done was watch them set up around it. He had even called in a couple armored vehicles, in case the dragon decided to be violent; that had been quite the interesting conversation: trying to convince the military to send troops because there was a dragon in the city... The dragon now sat motionless at the middle of a ring of over a hundred soldiers, blinking every few minutes, and emitting an occasional puff of smoke from its nostrils. Qian Li watched in horror as the dragon seemed to get frustrated, rear it’s wings, and roar at them. He heard an enormous explosion, and then the dragon squawked as it was impacted by the tank shell. 

______________________________________________________________________________

There! Now they have no reason to keep ignoring me. Ouch! What was that? That felt like the time I was distracted watching the phoenix weave a storm, and crashed into a mountain!  Glancing down at his chest, the dragon grew furious as he noticed one of his beautiful scales was dented.  How dare they! I will tear them all apart! 

______________________________________________________________________________

Qian Li grew ever more frightened as he watched the dragon seem to inspect itself, and then turn huge, baleful eyes on them. The dragon gave a brief snort, and the tank exploded.  Ye gods above and below! What fury have we unleashed?

______________________________________________________________________________

Fragile things, you burst into flames before I even begin!  The dragon had been in the process of casting a spell taught to him by one of the Earth-Shaper clan of his caretakers, when the metal beast that had spat at him exploded.  No matter, I will tear the rest apart instead! 

 

Screaming in fury as he unleashed his spell, he watched in satisfaction as the earth first started to tremble, then slowly started to sink.  Good, this will teach these pitiful things! How could they ever have made a village? They have no magic! They only have their stinking metal beasts! The poor tree-keepers must be asleep as well! They would never let such horrid things live! While he had been deep in thought, the second part of his spell had started to take effect, and the earth was cracking apart, with glowing magma shining through.  Ah, I love volcanoes! 

______________________________________________________________________________

Dropping to his knees, Qian Li started to pray to all the gods he could think of. He was nearing the end of his wits as the earth continued cracking and crumbling, when he remembered an old story passed down through his family.  I hope this works!  “Great Za’an-zi, we request your aid! We beg of you, come rescue us from Fúcánglóng’s fury!”

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Oh, marvelous! This one knows my name! Perhaps they need not be destroyed after all. He did ask for my help so nicely, after all! I wonder who this Fúcánglóng is though... Such a waste of a perfectly good volcano. Hmph. I do hope the one who woke me lives somewhere warm.  Recalling his spell, the dragon took to the air.  Well, I’ve had enough of these smelly creatures. Time to find my own meal, I suppose. I wonder if there are any ice bears in these mountains...

______________________________________________________________________________

“Oh, praise be to the Great One!” Qian Li had at first been horrified that the dragon turned its full attention on him. He then grew ecstatic when the rumbling had stopped, and the oppressive heat from the magma seeping through the earth sank back into the depths. “Praise be to Za’an-Zi! I shall construct the most marvelous temple in your name, to honour your greatness! None shall forget that you saved us from the Dragon!”

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“Minister Xa’Xien, Minister Xa’Xien!” A temporary assistant, hired only for the summer period as a courtesy to his rich family, was rushing through the halls of the Chinese Ministry for Magic, disrupting the progress of several senior Ministry members that resided on the same floor as the Minister. The Minister, one Xa’Xien Cheng, sighed internally.  How the times grow old. When I was young, I would have been taken by my mother and strapped for causing such a scene! What could possibly be so important? He is assigned with the Department of Magical Creatures! 

 

“Minister Xa’Xien,” the boy gave a low bow, and then quickly began to babble about dragons attacking the muggles, and trying to destroy a city.

 

“Boy, what foolishness is this? There have been no wild dragons in China in centuries! We would know if one escaped their home!”  Really, what imagination these children have. Dragons, attacking an entire city? Impossible. 

 

“Minister, it was not one of our dragons! The head of the department is working with the obliviators, and the stories they are telling say the claw marks on the dirt are over two meters long! The locals are calling it the Dragon God, Fúcánglóng! The earth was split open, and they say magma scorched the grass!”

  
“You’re sure this was a dragon,” the minister asked, skeptical that any one dragon could cause such a mess. “Well, regardless of what caused this, call all our security personnel back to duty, I want this matter resolved quickly. If the ICW finds out that we let a dragon not only get seen by muggles, but to attack them, well, we would never hear the end of it! They might even decide it requires an outside influence, and those nosy British would be all-too-eager to poke around our country!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all I have ready to post so far. I'm still working, but I have a glacial update rate, as the tag states. I'm truly sorry for that, but as a University student I don't always have time for writing, and even when I do I don't have energy for it :P Rest assured this is NOT going to get abandoned (unless I get buried in snow... We've had 4 storms back to back lol)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I think that’s enough for one chapter, the next one will be out soon! Even constructive (or not so constructive) criticism is welcomed. Make a review to let me know what you think :D
> 
>  
> 
> Foopy


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